The Gravedigger

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A grand continent constructed by the Architects of Old, contains living structures infused with Naten. Long since destroyed by the Horsemen, and again vanquished by their heralds. But slowly recovers to this day. What could be here that persists its own destruction so thoroughly?
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The Gravedigger

Post by Michio Tribe » Thu May 02, 2019 8:00 pm

Slip, Chunk, Ssshh went the song of the gravedigger as he toiled ceaselessly day and night. Slip, Chunk, Ssshh went the grave digger under Vescrutia’s pale moons alight, one reflected the green hue of the sun, the other aglow with a slight pink. Slip, Chunk, Ssshh went the gravedigger the repeated cadence hypnotizing him into a repetitive think. The moons light illuminated the sweat across his chisled back, and reflected his silver hair he shifted in a receptive motion with every Slip, Chunk, Ssshh. Slip, He’d shove the crystal spade into the ground, Chunk place his foot upon the space, Ssshh, with a heave he’d toss the dirt into a nearby pile and repeat the motion until it was 8 feet deep. Countless empty graves surrounded him from horizon to horizon, with proportionate dirt piles beside them. Still the Slip, Chunk, Ssshh went his shovel the gravedigger worked into a frenzy. These grave would remain empty.

The Ravagers leave no trace of their skill. Bits and pieces perhaps but that was a sign of their generosity. Still The Gravedigger could estimate the total of their kills when the sky fell upon the Abyss that day. He was a murder true, a Destroyer at best. It was his craft and he perfected it. But it was one thing to take life, but another to have it entrusted in your hands and have it taken. So he Slip, Chunk, Ssshh’d all night long until there was a grave dug for every life lost in Kemet. His compound was full of life and grit only the strongest could stand in his wake. The strongest warriors, cooks, artist, singers, tavern keepers wanted to be associated with his name. ‘I keep company with The Destroyer’ it made them feel like he, invincible. But they were so incredibly vulnerable, more than they ever were.

He remembered when picked the spot to set up camp. Completely flat, and endless rolling plain. Tall blades of grass shifted arrogantly challenging someone to seat upon their terrain. 5 jagged stone obelisks pulsing with Naten encased this section of arcturus like fingers of Kemet. The archaic ruins cradled this field in its palms. All else was flat terrain, you could see endlessly across the planet it seemed, the entirety of the sun’s rise, the full breath of the sun set, it was truly beautiful. You could see the entire tide of Ravagers approach, a fleshly, rabid, howling wave. Their numbers outweighed his 30-1, 300,000 graves were dug. Kham was panting, exhausted.The Slip, Chunk, Ssshh’d were all done. The Grave digger sat down his shovel and surveyed his land, surveyed all those he let down. Entire bloodlines were wiped from history that day. And no one to remember their names but he.

The gravedigger stood still. The wind would eventually fill the graves again. But every year the gravedigger returned to remember the names, because no one else would but he. So he sat, cross legged and recited them from memory. Silently. To himself, with no company but his shame and his guilt.


This is a pen-name account which writes from the narrative perspective of:
Michio Kham, T'ajsa Michio, Gaia- The Divine Anima, The Devout (and its members)
Michio Tribe Lore

Everything posted by this account is official property of ©Vescrutia2018, no reproduction, or reposting of this content identical to or closely resembling is allowed.

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Re: The Gravedigger

Post by Michio Tribe » Thu May 09, 2019 9:35 pm

Every year on the anniversary the Sky Fell, did the Gravedigger return to this place to sit among the company of his old friend, his first friend, Silence. Not to be confused with peace. Silence was always there for The Gravedigger throughout the many stages of his terribly long life. The early stages when all he did was scream. Scream at the suns. Scream at anyone who would listen. Scream at the moons. When he learned to embrace silence, it comforted him. He fought to bring silence back, imposing it upon anything that ruined it, smashing and breaking all that interrupted it. And that just made so many more graves than these. The gravedigger would laugh that it took an entire army to make the amount of graves he could make in alone. But this was his life, his legacy, his memories. Pitfalls of regret, filled with terrible memories of those who did and did not deserve the end of his knuckles. And as the Grave Digger murmured the names of the fallen he paused and dribbled…

“I’m sorry Keisha.”

As if dragged down by the magnitude of his guilt, his face hit the floor with a mighty thump and he wet the soil with his tears. The Gravedigger sobbed.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

And by the flood of his tears, the walls he put up around his mind, keeping the tide of guilt at bay were unleashed. Memories of Kisha Mitre drowned The Great Destroyer in his own guilt. The scars were so fresh, the ones she applied upon his body they day they first met. The day she challenged him in the arena. Kemet was alive and well. The abyss the Gravedigger hurried his head bastardized the past from which it game. The legacy of the Architects of Old a masterfully built city who, even in ruins baffled modern day mathematicians with freestanding structures, bound together as if magnetized by Naten who, when damaged, regenerated to near full form. People made homes out of these ruins and Kham chose this expansive plane, enclosed in giant fractured obelisks to create an area from a blank slate. After settling here with TJ, baby Atra, Kay-no and eventually domesticating Cross he made himself quite the family and settled as champion of the arena thereafter. Strengthening those who wanted to get stronger, and challenging anyone who dare contest him. But never had he thought he was going to lose his life until he fought Kisha Mitre. Oh did the scars burn, the wounds and memories were still fresh.

He had seen many fights that day, and the dueling suns were nearing the end of their long shift clinging to the sea of clouds. When an entire herd of grisly folk stepped to the arena claiming they wish to stay in Kemet. All eyes fell to Kham, who by no means ‘allowed’ anyone to not stay. The place was so expansive anyone could take root. But they didn’t just want to stay, they wanted to stay and be respected. That, is why the crowds yielded to him. That, is why he stood up from his chair that day and asked who spoke for them. And that was when she introduced herself. The sea of vagabonds parted revealing a woman with beautiful brown skin, covered in cuts, no hair, or even arms wrapped in mummified bandages around her torso. She claimed she spoke for the group, she said her name was Kisha, and she would gladly fight for their right to remain in Kemet.

Kham reiterated that they needn’t fight to stay, anyone was welcome to stay but Kisha playfully said her tribe had a long journey across the seas and she could use a good workout before they rest for the night. Her tribe laughed. And Kham yielded to his daughter who was already shouting obscenities as this group. Even then Kham could sense something in Kisha, and maybe it was just his awakened power as King of Beast, but the two were very similar. Absolutely unafraid, and we’re always bloodthirsty. The crowds were silent, perhaps privy of what Kham could sense. Kisha hadn’t heard of The Great Destroyer, The Gravedigger hadn’t heard of The Mitre. And the crowd let the gravediggers familiar friend silence coach him through the battle, silence and his daughter who wouldn’t stop trash talking. The Gavedigger never underestimated a foe, no matter how many limbs they had but as soon as he tried gauging her strength by keeping her at a distance, overwhelming her with volleys of shockwaves by his powerful punches. The air seemed to part around Kisha, she never moved an inch. And The gravedigger could hear the subtle screech the wind made when it neared her skin, like the sundering of parchment or the grinding of metal against metal. Kisha never taunted nor jibed during the fight. And to make sure Kham wasn’t hallucinating he tossed some crystalized heavy sand her way, only for her to stay put and sever it at the microfibers.

Thats when Kham knew exactly what they had in common. It wasn’t her power that proved it, it was her face. So totally composed, an earned confidence of years of battle. Not only did they share bloodlust, but they knew they were incredibly dangerous.
This is a pen-name account which writes from the narrative perspective of:
Michio Kham, T'ajsa Michio, Gaia- The Divine Anima, The Devout (and its members)
Michio Tribe Lore

Everything posted by this account is official property of ©Vescrutia2018, no reproduction, or reposting of this content identical to or closely resembling is allowed.

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Re: The Gravedigger

Post by Michio Tribe » Mon May 27, 2019 9:01 pm

And perhaps Kisha recognized it too, in Kham’s eyes he was used to seeing the destructive outcome of his feats. Bodies snapped in half at the aftershock of his strikes, or were reduced to pieces from his crystalized attacks. The Gravedigger wasn’t used to meeting another Great Destroyer. Such a rare meeting required a more personal exchange of pleasantries. Time for Kham to get in close. Kisha hoped that The Great Destroyer would simply fall to pieces upon touching her but focusing his Naten into his strikes kept his body whole. Clangorous cacophony filled the area as Kisha pivoted and danced around Kham’s crushing blows deflecting the brunt of the force into the arena who’s structural integrity could more than withstand his blows. The two danced a fierce romp with Kisha taking the lead first. She rolled around Kham’s blows, letting thunderous punches pass over head leaving the shockwaves to slam into the area sides. Or she would roll around body blows with the sounds of scraping metal accenting his punches that peeled away pieces of his skin. Kham was playing catch up, so he picked up the pace, overwhelming her with lighter, quicker punches. It was a blur to most of the onlookers. How much could she truly pivot before-

There, he felt it, the all too familiar sound of the crack of bone. He struck her square in the side and sent her reeling back toward the arena wall. Kisha hit it with a terrible shock that shattered more bone. Kham charged after her facing an army of invisible slashes that sliced him from crown to foot. He knew he should be guarding his face, but the thrill of being so vulnerable was addicting. The fear was something he hadn’t known since his youth. He welcomed it. Kisha knew she should have evaded moments ago but she hand’t met something that could stand in the way of her slicing power so resiliently. As Kham approached her gaze intensified and The Destroyer weathered the storm. It was all the more intense as if barreling down the throat of a hurricane, it slowed his momentum, and dare he admit, it hurt. Blood mixed with the white sands turning it a pink wet muck. Kham roared in pain. The Mitre woman finally landed the blow she wanted, and took away Kham’s vision causing him to take a knee. He could hear her pant. She could see him bleed. TJ stopped cursing. All was silent.

The hurricane stopped. Kisha took an advancing, foolish, step forward, and by an explosion of leg strength Kham sprung his trap, and was upon her charging back into the arena wall leaving a rain of pink sand in his wake. As the gravedigger reflected, he could recall he heard Kisha swear in this moment. What separated her from certain death was her locs, each of them alive like snakes all converged around Kham’s bleeding fist keeping it from severing Kisha’s head from it’s shoulders. Most of his power was being redirected to keep him from being sundered in two. They eyed each other for a moment. The Mitre were growing restless. TJ was unsure of whether or not to step in, until both of their pants turned to laughs, and the onlookers took a collective sigh of relief perhaps fearing that the first war Kemet would ever see had come. But instead this was the start of a beautiful friendship. Not only were the Mitre welcome in Kemet, but Kisha and Kham sharpened each other to perfection. No wonder it was so difficult to take her life. The Gravedigger shook his head violently. Trying to wash the thoughts of Kisha’s murder from his head he was here to pay respects to a great warrior, not sully her memory with her death. Plus he heart hoof-steps, several dozen of them.

“Leave me.”

The Gravedigger grumbled. Still they approached. Louder and louder.

“Leave me be!”

He turned in yelled in the direction of the herd, there behind him were several dozen stags who’s antlers were aflame with electric green energy. Kham quickly counted the army, they numbered in the hundreds covering every inch of his vision. And behind them, perched atop a hill in the far distance was a giant pair of antlers atop an equally massive Stag. Kham new it to be his equally proud, pact beast Nehvar.

“AM I NOT ALLOWED TO MOPE, BE MISERABLE, BE SAD, FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE???!”

He shouted to the spectral antlered figure who stood unflinching perched upon his mighty hill. Tears slid down the Cliffside’s of the Gravediggers face. Of course Nehvar wouldn’t answer. Not in a language any mortal would understand, but even from this far Kham could understand him. Their heart beat as one. And Nehvar presence was one of pity.

“That’s it. You came to mock me? Don’t you ever feel pain, feel loss Nehvar?!”

He shouted still, but Nehvar returned nothing but the proud beat of his heart. Nehvar was infallible. Invincible. The pride of the forest. It’s champion. The Gravedigger was a killer. They spent years at once another’s side rationalizing why they were bound to each other and took great measures to never call upon one another except absolutely necessary. The distance between the two made the intensity of their pact bearable. It was rare for Nehavar to show himself, but to come all this way just to mock him?! His arrogance only made the tears flow further down his cheeks. His heartbeat quickened, synchronizing with Nehvar’s own and quickly Kham’s tears dried up before the hit the soil of Kemet. Nehvar wanted to help.

“You can help by leaving me be… Wait. No, I don’t think I can- Nehvar no!”

The herd of stags walked among the graves bringing life wherever they stepped. Flowers that sparkled in the moonlight, lush soft grass, with insects and glowing bugs, birds and all in-between grew in their wake. Each of the stags walked into the deep graves. Kham’s ranting continued, he begged, pleaded for Nehvar to not use his power in this way but part of him wanted to see, wanted to know that he was forgiven. The spectral stags evaporated into crystal tufts of naten flowing into the evening sky above The Gravedigger they spiraled around until they converged into humanoid shapes. The Gravedigger felt fear for one of the few times in his life until Nehvar used his power as King of Beasts to communicate with the dead and manifest the souls of all those who fell in Kemet before him. Kham fell to his knees in reverence, the emerald fires bathing him in their mighty glow while the spectral conjurer, King of Beats Nehvar stood looming on his hill forcing his other to face absolution.

“That’s it. You came to mock me? Don’t you ever feel pain, feel loss, Nehvar?!”

He shouted still, but Nehvar returned nothing but the proud beat of his heart. Nehvar was infallible. Invincible. The pride of the forest. It’s champion. The Gravedigger was a killer. Unlike most pacts, The Gravedigger and Nehvar were never at each other’s side. They were so alike that their spirits repelled each other and they only had fought beside one another a small number of times. The distance between the two made the intensity of their pact bearable. But at this proximity Nehvar could feel The Gravediggers agony, loss, pain and regret. Kham could feel Nehvars pride, pity and self-righteousness. It was rare for Nehavar to show himself, but to come all this way just to mock him?! Nehvars arrogance only made the tears flow further down Kham’s cheeks. His heartbeat quickened, the stress welled up inside him, the warmth of anxiety ran crimson along his cheeks and the tears flowed further. The Gravedigger wept upon this ancient battleground of Kemet where so many fell. That is until one of the spectral stags nuzzled his leg. Nehvar wasn’t here to mock him, hewanted to help.

The herd of stags walked among the graves bringing life wherever they stepped. Flowers that sparkled in the moonlight, lush soft grass, with insects and glowing bugs, birds and all in-between grew in their wake. Each of the stags walked into the deep graves. Kham and Nehvar’s heart beat as one. He knew what would come next, but was unsure if he could face it. he begged, pleaded for Nehvar to not use his power in this way but part of him wanted to see, wanted to know that he was forgiven. The spectral stags evaporated into crystal tufts of energy flowing into the evening sky above The Gravedigger they spiraled around until they converged into humanoid shapes. The Gravedigger felt fear for one of the few times in his life until Nehvar used his power as King of Beasts to communicate with the dead and manifest the souls of all those who fell in Kemet before him. Kham fell to his knees in reverence, the emerald fires bathing him in their mighty glow while the spectral conjurer, King of Beats Nehvar stood looming on his hill forcing his other to face absolution.

The Destroyer tried to plug his ears to their voice, tried to drown out their screams but he stopped the hysteria when he heard her voice-

"Kham... Kham? You better have a damn good reason for interrupting my peace."

"K-Kisha."

He rose from his groveling position and gazed into the emerald conflagration. It was too amazing. The King of Beasts was the spiritual medium between man and beast, life and death. Kham and Nehvar could communicate with the dead, he never wanted to channel Kisha here. For fear that she, like so many others in his past would hate him for his deeds. But she sounded much like herself, calm, collected, always with a joke in the back of her throat.

"Why'd you call me? Hmm? God you look terrible."

He could almost see her in the fires, her hair full and loc’d up. Her body covered in wraps which he later found out that beneath was just a torso. Most mitre children accidentally sever their own limbs when they discover their power.

"I... I miss you terribly."

The Gravedigger lamented, but it wasn’t well received by Kisha.

"I can't say the same friend. It's wonderful here. I’m glad you all put me down when you did.“

The Mitre spoke to the point. Something Kham respected. They would offend anyone else who didn't learn to weather her tough words. It was still so surreal, but this was no illusion.

"Where are you exactly?"

“I’ve been many places. I think this is heaven. The more I discover the more there is to be discovered. There are creatures here, worthy adversaries. You’d love it.”

Kham always thought about death. Like silence, The gravedigger and death were well acquainted, having provided resting places for many more than what lie before him yet never falling into death’s embrace himself. It was a flirtatious relationship.

"You act like nothing happened."

Kham continued, Kisha was far too casual for someone who had just died a few years ago. Kham turned toward Nehvar in the distance wondering if he was conjuring some sort of trick. But their hearts beat as one, this was no illusion. Kham was just used to ridicule.

"A life well lived. A death well earned. That's the Mitre way. What happened was not your fault. Wear our deaths on your shoulders, if it makes you strong. If it doesn't? Throw it away. Bury it. Like you do here every year.“

“You see me.”

“On occasion I stop by to check on you. But you’re so burdened with regret that you can’t feel me.”

Was he? Was he that hard on himself that he couldn’t feel her attempts at closure from beyond the grave.

“I-I’m-“

“Don’t say your sorry, it wasnt your fault. No one could have known. It was a damn good fight though. I almost had you all.”

“I was holding back.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Well it sounds like you want me to stay a while.”

“If it’s not too much trouble.“

“Anything for you friend.”

The emerald flames in the form of Kisha rested themselves upon the over grown bounty of nature. Kham sat down next to them. The brightness covering him in a green blanket. The fires gave off no heat or coldness just a feeling of another presence close to him. His heart and Nehvars beat as once, his sadnes was Nehvars, Nehvars pride was his. But he wanted to catch up with his friend. But he and Nehvar knew that keeping Kisha here was unjust. Kham's eyes were red and dry with tears. They hurt. He rubbed them intensely.

"Your children-"

"Kevin and Kierra will find their way. And they’ll have you to help them.“

"You trust me?“

“Who else would I trust? I never liked the Hellgate. Always aloof, detached. The young boy, Zero? He has some more growing to do. You and T’Ajsa are family to the Mitre, despite our separation. Kham, I love that you honor us so dutifully. Your devotion to those you care about is unmathced But Kham? Be present, in the present for those who need you now."

"It's hard being an example. An ideal. I want to-"

"What, be pitiful? Hurt? Be depressed? Please. You're not allowed. And it hurts. I know. But take it as strength. Relish in it.”

The Gravedigger placed himself on his pedestal, now he wasn’t allowed to come down? What sort of hole did he dig himself into.

"Kisha."

"You're a damn good friend Michio. A damn good friend. Not perfect. Far from it. But you’ve done well by The Mitre. I have to go. My tribe calls to me. I will always be with you.”

The emerald flames vanished and the darkness returned, one by one the stars took precedent in the sky and the stags rose from the graves now filled and overgrown with beautiful flowers and other fauna. Kham looked behind him and Nehvar turned his back and walked away with his herd trotting after him. He didn't need to say thank you, their hearts beat as one. Every year the gravedigger came here to pay homage to the fallen, but the would be the last time he buried himself in regret.
This is a pen-name account which writes from the narrative perspective of:
Michio Kham, T'ajsa Michio, Gaia- The Divine Anima, The Devout (and its members)
Michio Tribe Lore

Everything posted by this account is official property of ©Vescrutia2018, no reproduction, or reposting of this content identical to or closely resembling is allowed.

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